Biggs Darklighter, he bought Luke enough time so that Han and Chewie could show up just in time to save Lukes butt. If Biggs bails out of the trench right after Wedge does Luke is smoked, think about it.

1.Yoda and the Council members
2.Fett and Vader's 5 other Bounty Hunters
3.Vader/Anakin
3.Palpatine and his Empire
4.Mothma and her Rebellion
5.All the rest execpt Joruus C'Baoth, and Clone Emperor which I personnally prefer to distinguish from Palpatine

Alright, let me start. Awhile ago a bunch of us over in Community started this x-wing squadron that bubbled over into this RPG/FanFic sorta thing. I'd like to compare ourselves to Talon Squad (we got some of the same people), but they're a lot bigger than us and a lot more organized. Anyway, this is the first blurb from the long(that's an understatement ) introduction that I wrote for the squadron. (Hopefully) other squadron mates will add on, and if you'd like to join, we've still got a spot open (in my flight group!) for an extra person. Any comments (or help) on this would be great. Thanks guys.

His second-in-command didn't even look up from his datapad. "I know. You've told me that several times in the past half an hour. If you weren't my commander, I'd seal your mouth shut with flight tape and lock you in a cockpit with a sweaty ewok."

"That'd be cruel."

He shrugged indifferently. "It'd be funny."

Commander Rob Hood stood staring out of his scratched transparasteel window. His view was identical to any other on Coruscant; the building across the way, the walkway above, and the endless, dark precipes below.

"It's hard to believe I risked my neck to conquer a world like this."

Captain Justin Celchu laughed and tossed his datapad onto the cluttered desk. "And it's hard to believe I risked my neck agreeing to work under you."

Rob tilted his head back, drained the last drop of caf from his cup, and turned away from the drab scene outside. "At least you're working for something more attractive than this orbiting ball of Imperialistic phobium."

"Can I quote you on that?"

The Commander set his dirty cup down on a shelf for the cleaning droid and collapsed into his chair. "That would be sticking your neck out very far indeed."

Justin laughed and nudged the datapad further across the desk. "There's the final roster. General Antilles' aide delivered it a little while ago."

He picked it up and thumbed it on, scrolling through the list of pilot names and profiles half-heartedly. "My first command and I don't even get to pick my pilots."

"No rookie commanders get to pick their own squadrons."

"Hmmm?" Rob swiveled in his chair and rubbed his brown goatee thoughtfully. "We're a little weighted down with Corellians."

"Politics. Command's trying to get cheaper ships faster. It makes the shipyards on Corellia feel loved to know that some of their fighters are being flown by home-grown heroes."

He switched off the datapad and tossed it back onto his desk. "Well, as long as their 'home-grown heroes' can fly, then let the whole squad be Corellians for all I have to say in it." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. It'd been a long day and the caf was already wearing off.

Justin stood up and stretched, taking his cue to leave from his Commander's tiredness. "The Bothan's wouldn't be too thrilled about that, Sir."

"So let them moan about it in the Senate. I hate politics."

Justin snorted. "Like Coruscant?"

Rob thought about it for a moment. "No, Coruscant will always be at the bottom of my list. But they're pretty close."

"I bet." Justin traced the new, clean starfighter patch on his jacket's sleeve before pulling the coat off the back of the chair and slinging it over his shoulder. He strode to the door, but stopped when he reached it. "0800, right?"

Rob was staring out the window again as the bright Coruscant sun slowly dipped below the horizon, tingeing the buildings, walkways, and precipes in a foggy, reddish haze. "That's right. Il